


Better Strangers

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drug Addiction, F/M, Mental Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy knew that he was so very different and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't make himself right. A biography of Percy Weasley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Percy felt horribly wrong.

He stood quietly by his family, trying to drown out the sounds of his mother's muffled wailing, as he watched Fred's coffin lower down into the grave.

It was wrong. Percy didn't know what it was, but he knew that it was wrong. The sunlight was too bright, too harsh. They made the tombstones look unnaturally white against the green, green grass. Breathing in the fresh, clean air made his nose burn. His eyes were watering, but he was ashamed to say that he didn't think it was because of Fred.

He was weary. A bone-deep sort of weary that made him want to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. But he couldn't. His brain itched. It propelled him to do something. Do anything. Just make the world seem a little less sharp and a little more palatable. He knew what he wanted to do.

He couldn't stand there anymore. He needed to leave. He had the overwhelming urge to just run. Something was wrong, something was bad, and he didn't know what it was but it was his fault and his parents and siblings would hate him for it. There were five tombstones in this row. Odd number. He was afraid.

Percy glanced at his family. Ginny was crying silently, Harry's arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Ron and Hermione were clasping hands, a dark scowl fixed on his brother's face as he stared down at the black coffin. Bill and Charlie looked stoic and strong; even if their eyes were a bit too shiny and if someone noticed a few tears slipping down Charlie's face no one said anything. George seemed almost… nonchalant about the entire affair, looking down at the gravesite with polite disinterest. His mother's face was buried in a kerchief, her sobs drowning out the vicar's voice. Percy's father just looked so puzzled, as though he had no idea how any of this came to be.

Percy knew that when his father came back to his senses he would ask him that question. How would he answer it? Would he lie? God, if his family found out the truth… He couldn't face this on his own. How could he ask them for help after everything? Not that it mattered. It was his fault that Fred was dead. And they would find out. If they didn't already know it. Were they thinking that now? Were they all silently blaming him, tolerating his company simply because it was Fred's funeral and it was the better thing to do? Stop this, Percy. Stop thinking these things. Percy bit the inside of his cheek. Why couldn't he stop thinking about these things? He hated these thoughts. Always wondering what people were thinking of him. If they hated him. They were intrusive, an ever present force in his mind. There were twenty people at the funeral. Even number. Percy clung to that thought. It soothed his nerves.

Suddenly a loud cacophony filled the air, startling the black-draped crowd. Percy jumped back as the silence suddenly evaporated, the entire cemetery screeching with the sounds of horns and hooting. He felt himself bump into Bill who quickly reached out to steady him. It didn't take long for everyone to figure out that the noise was coming from the coffin. Looking at George, at his soft smile, everyone knew who the culprit was. There were even a few chuckles.

The wake was held at the Burrow. Percy can barely remember it. His mind felt like it was in a fog. Everywhere he saw the same faceless people in a sea of black. He knew that he hadn't eaten yet that day and maybe not yesterday either. He should get some of the food. He made a conscious effort to go to the kitchen, but somehow he didn't end up there. His head was pounding and it was too hot. He couldn't focus. He needed a little help. He knew exactly the kind of help that he needed but he wasn't going to take it. He wasn't going to do that anymore. Fred was dead, remember?

Percy felt himself being led away, a hand on his arm. Looking up, he saw his father guiding him upstairs into an empty room. His old room. They sat down on the bed. This was it.

"I want you to know that I am very happy that you came back." His father stated with a weak smile.

Percy blinked. That was unexpected. He didn't know what to say. And neither did his father apparently. Silence filled the room once more, both of them looking unsure.

"I took you up here to discuss… your problem." Arthur hesitantly stated. Standing up quickly as though a thought suddenly occurred to him, Arthur strode over to where Percy's old desk stood. "I thought it would be best to do this away from the younger kids. Your mother and I haven't told them what was going on." Pulling a dusty folder from one of the drawers, Percy's father sat back down next to him. "When we first learned about your problem your mother and I did a lot of research. We don't know how to help you with this. But these people do."

Arthur handed Percy the folder who accepted it gingerly. Opening it, Percy saw that it contained brochures. Looking down at the sad people forcibly smiling and waving for the camera Percy felt a little sick and afraid. "The Glover Hipworth Treatment Center?" Percy asked. "You want me to go to rehab?" He remembered a similar conversation a few years ago.

Apparently so did Arthur because he held up his hands non-threateningly. "We can't make you do anything." He stated. "But we love you and we want you well. You're killing yourself, Percy, and I've lost too many children already." His voice became firmer. "We can't watch you die. It's either this, or…"

Arthur trailed off, but Percy understood. They couldn't let him back in unless he was sober.

Arthur hadn't asked the question Percy thought he would. He didn't know if this was better or worse. He was scared, but also a little relieved. It only took a minute for him to nod. He would go to rehab.


	2. Chapter 1

Percy dropped his bag onto the bed with an unnecessarily loud thump.

He pushed back the bile that threatened to rise up his throat as he sank heavily onto the mattress next to his bag. He was finally here. His Mum and Dad had Apparated with him to his flat in London where they had summoned the Knight Bus to take him to the Glover Hipworth Treatment Center. They couldn't even have the bus arrive at the Burrow, not with his younger siblings still there. He knew for a fact that his parents were not going to tell Ron or Ginny or George what was really going on with their older brother. He didn't know how they were going to explain away his disappearance, but he knew the truth was out of the question.

Percy buried his face in his hands. God, he had never felt more ashamed and worthless as he had when he got onto that bus.

Percy sucked in a breath as he pushed himself up. This was nothing. He could get through this. He had to get through this. He didn't want to spend his entire life being hated.

He began pulling out clothing, separating them into neat piles, and cautiously, slowly, placing them in his dresser. It had four drawers, eight knobs. The simple act of placing the articles in their respective places, smoothing down the wrinkles, soothed Percy's anxious mind. He could do this. He would be fine.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of another's voice. He turned to see one of the nurses looking at him expectantly from the doorway. "Mr. Crane will see you now." She explained, moving aside to let Percy into the hall.

The trip to Crane's office was almost completely devoid of magic. Despite knowing full well what the program entailed, Percy still found it strangely off-putting to wander the halls of a Wizarding facility, only for everything to be so… Muggle. At this center, no one aside from the Healers was allowed to do magic within its walls and all patients, Percy included, were forced to surrender their wands upon entering. How were they to overcome their addiction if they were constantly exposed to it? Percy knew this. He understood it. Giving up his wand was hard, though. It wasn't just a tool. It was who he was. He was a wizard. He didn't know how not to be.

The nurse led him to an office. It was extravagant looking but extremely neat and tidy. The man sitting at the desk was young – no older than Charlie – with an affable smile on his face. Percy felt himself relax minutely as he sat in the chair across from the man's desk.

The man reached over the desk to shake his hand. "I'm Edward Crane, the director of this facility," He introduced, still smiling.

"You're a Healer?" Percy inquired, unable to keep the disdain from his voice. He wasn't so sure about placing his treatment into the hands of a Healer so young.

"I graduated top of my class," Crane assured. Percy felt a little mollified at that. "And I've spent the last three years working as a journeyman in facilities like this one that specializes in magical addictions before I became a Master Healer."

Percy could tell that Crane's speech had been rehearsed. "You get a lot of patients questioning your abilities, do you?" He asked, perhaps a little rudely.

Crane, however, just laughed. "What can I say? It's this young, handsome face of mine."

Percy felt himself smile at that, however fleetingly.

"I think it's time that I started asking some of the questions here," Crane said, his face – although still kind – turned serious. "It says here in my initial report that you've been abusing the potion Analeptius. That is a highly addicting brew and dangerous in large doses. When did you start using it?"

"Oh, it was my sixth year at Hogwarts," Percy stated nervously, his hands compulsively running down his thighs to smooth the wrinkles in his robes. "So, about five years ago."

"I see," Crane murmured as his quill scratched against the parchment. "And what made you turn to the potion then?"

Percy shrugged. "I'm not really sure."

Crane glared at him sharply, which made Percy's stomach roll with fear. "If you want help then you need to be honest. I can't help you if you don't tell me anything. Were you stressed about your schoolwork? Did you start using it to give you a little extra boost every day?"

"Well, y-yes, I suppose," Percy stuttered.

"But that wasn't the main reason?"

The red-haired man said nothing to that. He just didn't know how to explain it without sounding completely insane. Perhaps because maybe he was insane. There was nothing that Percy could say that wouldn't sound absolutely mad.

"Mr. Weasley…" Percy looked up at the Healer. He was looking at him with such compassion in his eyes. "I need you to trust me. I'm here to help."

Percy sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to relax. "I keep having… these thoughts." Percy finally stated.

"Thoughts? What kind of thoughts?"

The other man only shrugged helplessly. "Terrible thoughts. I'm just… I'm so worried all the time for no reason at all really. I keep wondering if people hate me, if their disgusted by me," Percy confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I think this about my own family. I know… I know that they must care about me… but I just can't make the thoughts stop. They're there all the time…. And I think other things. I think that if I don't do… certain things that something bad will happen. It's stupid things, things that don't make any difference," Percy spat out, the disgust welling up inside of him as he explained his thoughts to the Healer. "Like making sure that things come in even numbers. I bought two umbrellas last year instead of one just so I wouldn't have an odd number in my flat! Because if I had an odd number of umbrellas something terrible was going to happen. I know that it's stupid, that I'm stupid for thinking it, but I can't stop. I just wanted it to stop." Percy bit his lip. "The Analeptius made me feel… empowered. I didn't feel as helpless when I drank it. It… distracted me."

For a long time Crane said nothing, but continued to scratch upon the parchment with his quill. Percy swallowed dryly. He knew he sounded insane.

Then the Healer looked up at him and smiled. "Don't worry. What you're suffering from is not unheard of."

Percy felt like the wind was knocked out of him. He never heard of another person thinking or feeling the way he did.

"Your thoughts are merely a symptom of a greater problem," Crane explained compassionately. "Namely, a hex."

Percy frowned at that. "I don't remember being hexed."

Crane shook his head indulgently. "You wouldn't. Humans are unable to perform it. The hex is called Obsidere and is usually the work of brownies."

Percy nodded. Brownies were a species related to House elves; although there were those who hypothesized that they were really House elves who had gone rogue. Like their relatives they were powerful, but instead of working with wizards they actively fought against them by playing cruel tricks on humans. Secretive, elusive, and deceitful, Percy could not recall ever having seen one or knowing anyone who had. The twins – and Percy felt his insides go cold at the thought that there was only George now – once claimed to have seen a brownie but Percy could always tell when they were lying. Remus Lupin had even confessed to never having actually confronted one when he had taught Percy's class about brownies in his seventh year.

"They tend to target those who have weak minds, whom they can easily glamour and confuse," Crane went on as he absently shifted through his notes. "Unfortunately, a cure has yet to be discovered for this particular hex. There has been some success with magical stimulation to the mind, but it is not a guarantee. Of course, all treatments will have to be delayed until we work through your addiction." Crane peered at him over his nose. "How long has it been since you last took Analeptius?"

Percy could feel his face turn red at the question. "I tried to quit, but I couldn't go a week," Percy explained stiffly, trying to will his embarrassment away. "It's been two days."

Crane nodded. "You'll be going through withdrawal. After your body is cleansed of the potion we can start looking into treatment for the Obsidere. You'll also be expected to sit in on group counseling."

"Group counseling?" Percy asked.

Crane nodded. "Yes, I've found that talking about your experiences and feelings in a group setting has been very beneficial to a number of patients." Crane smiled at the man sitting across from him. "Don't worry. In your case, I believe you can make a full recovery."

Percy couldn't help but smile at that.


	3. Chapter 2

Percy scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to will his body to stop shaking.

He sat in the middle of his bed, still in his nightclothes, his vision blurred and unseeing. He had knocked his glasses from the nightstand and Percy had yet to pick them up. He couldn't be bothered with it. He might have knocked them off on purpose, he couldn't remember. The yellow wallpaper that decorated his temporary room was cracked and peeling in one corner. It bothered Percy. It was wrong and disturbing. If he just had his wand he could fix it. Why hadn't they fixed it? His eyes constantly sought out that corner every time he entered the room: when he came back from the bathroom, when he woke up in the morning. He couldn't ignore it. He tried, he tried so hard. Was this the curse or the withdrawal? He didn't know. He couldn't stand it any longer. It couldn't bother him if he couldn't see it, right? So why couldn't he stop thinking about it?

"So, this is where you've been."

Percy snapped his head up, taking in the blurred form, stout and red-haired, leaning against his door. For one brief, hysterical moment he thought it was Fred.

"George…" Percy croaked. "You're not supposed to be here."

He saw the fuzzy outline of his brother move towards him. As George's stocky form came into focus Percy could see the expression on his face, a look that plainly stated, "Are you kidding?" George sank down onto the bed next to Percy.

"We've been wondering where you've been – me and Ron and Ginny, anyway. Everyone else seemed to already know. Mum and Dad didn't want to tell us, but I managed to con Charlie into spilling. Heh, the great thing about having a dead twin is that you can get away with murder." George cracked a grin as though he had just made a joke, but it wasn't the same smile he had before. There was some dark emotion brewing in his gaze that Percy didn't want to particularly examine.

"That's not funny," Percy stated sharply.

George shrugged nonchalantly. "I always was at my best when I was with Fred."

For a moment they were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Why are you here, Percy?" George suddenly asked, fixing his older brother with a sharp look.

Percy sighed. He didn't want to talk about it. He felt terrible. His head hurt, he felt anxious and stressed. It had been over twenty-four hours since he last slept. Couldn't George see he wasn't up to it? "I've been using Analeptius for a few years now," Percy replied curtly, or it would have been curt if his voice hadn't shook so much. "It was an energy boost, and I had so much to do. It got to be problem."

He wasn't looking at George, but he heard him, felt him jump from the bed, his feet echoing as he paced the room. "If you didn't look like death warmed over, I'd hit you," George said.

Percy shrugged. He didn't much care.

"God, Perce, what were you thinking?" George demanded, coming to stand right in front of his brother. Percy didn't bother to look up. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Percy snapped.

George snorted. "Yeah, well, according to Charlie, Mum and Dad had to practically drag you here. Seriously, what's wrong with you? How could you be so stupid?"

Percy gritted his teeth at that. That's what everyone thought, wasn't it? That he was stupid. "You don't understand."

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no kidding. Of course I don't understand. No one understands. You stopped talking to us, remember? Merlin, even before then it was like living with a stranger! What, did you think we were going to hate you? Is that what you think of us?"

Percy flushed at the words. He didn't want to say that it was how he thought of them. He couldn't help it. He tried to stop those thoughts, but they were there all the time.

For a long time it was silent. The tension was palpable between them. George was looking at him like he hadn't seen him for years, hard and scrutinizing. Percy wondered what George was seeing.

Just ask, Percy thought, the familiar feeling of despair welling up inside of him. I know you want to know. Was I drugged during the battle? Is that why Fred died? Just ask me. Get it over with.

George didn't ask. He just shook his head and walked out.

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Percy twisted and turned on the rumpled sheets. His insides felt like they were on fire. He felt crazed and wild and unsure. He needed to get out of his skin. His whole body crawled, like it wasn't his.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Percy turned onto his back, looking up. Penelope was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, her long blonde curls tumbling down her shoulders and obscuring her face. The gray winter light flooded the room, making her hair look dull and almost white.

"What?" He breathed.

"I'm scared. All the time." Penelope sucked in a deep breath. "Does that make me weak?"

"No."

"Justin Finch-Fletchley is fine. That Granger girl is fine." Penelope continued on like Percy hadn't heard her. "Why can't I be fine?"

"You will be."

Penelope looked at him, her curls moving away to show her sad face. She looked pale and withdrawn. With a soft smile she slid down to lie next to him, clutching onto his arm and burying her face into his neck. "I tried talking to Madame Pomfrey about this," she mumbled into his skin. "She gave me some Dreamless Sleep and some Pepper-Up."

Percy sighed, his breath stirring her blonde hair underneath his chin. "She's a Healer. She knows what she's doing."

"Then why isn't it working?"

"Maybe you just need time."

Penelope heaved a sob. "It's been a year! When will I stop being afraid every time I turn a corner? When will I stop worrying about some stupid monster that's dead? It's dead! So, why am I still afraid?"

Percy didn't know what to say. He just held on to her as she sobbed.

After a few moments her weeping turned into sniffles. She rubbed her face against his freckled skin, her face wet with tears. "I think it's just me." She whispered. "I'm just making a big deal out of nothing."

Percy woke with a start, alone in his bed, with the warm light of the summer sun falling across his face.


	4. Chapter 3

Ginny was sick. Percy was sure of it.

He knew his sister, knew every expression and detail of her face. It was the same with his brothers; not even Fred and George could trick him into thinking one was the other. He knew them too well, had studied and analyzed their faces for too long. He had always been hyper-aware of his siblings, always trailing after them as they toddled away from the Burrow, making sure they didn't get hurt, or stuck, or in trouble. Bill and Charlie had always laughingly called him "Mum." Ron and the Twins were less appreciative of their older brother and called him a "nosy prat." Going to Hogwarts for the first time had been hard. He had been so worried. Paranoid, even. He just knew something terrible was going to happen to one of his siblings because he hadn't been there to stop it. Of course nothing happened and he had reluctantly loosened his grasp on them, let them wander off without him constantly at their side.

He still worried, though.

Percy glared sharply at the single button on his cuff. Of course it wasn't a big deal. He didn't know why he couldn't tear his gaze away from it. He could get another button, replace the one that was missing. But in the meantime there would be only one. Just one, Percy thought. One. One. One. O-

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, you're already here. Good."

Percy turned his neck to see Professor McGonagall enter her office. She took a seat behind her desk across from him. "I wanted to ask you: is everything alright?" McGonagall peered at him over her glasses. "You've been acting a little… withdrawn."

Percy blushed a little at his professor's piercing gaze. "It's just my prefect duties have been taking up a lot of my time, and Ginny isn't adjusting well-" She's gotten so thin and pale. She hardly talks anymore. She's sick. "-And then there's the whole business with… you know, Filch's cat."

McGonagall said nothing, only gave him a hard look. "I called you here because Professor Snape has seen fit to give me your latest essay for his class. This essay is…" McGonagall glanced down at the parchment on her desk, a frown on her face. "Professor Snape has given you an Acceptable for this work, and I agree with that assessment."

Percy was shocked. He had never gotten anything below an O before, ever. Hardly a day passed by that he didn't study for at least a few hours. He was even one of the few Gryffindors that had earned House points in Potions. Granted it was just the one point and Snape had refused to acknowledge his existence since then, but the point still stood. One. Percy nervously tugged at the single button on his cuff, his mind racing, berating himself. He should have studied harder, if he just didn't get distracted by all these stupid thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone. One. Percy pulled on the button some more.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about, Mr. Weasley?"

Percy shook his head. He couldn't tell her. She wouldn't believe him.

When he got back to his dorm he pulled off all the buttons on his shirt. None. They all had to match, and there was no way he would be able to find a button that would match. He could charm it, make it look like all the others, but it would always be different. Not the same. It would never be the same. It would make the shirt wrong. Percy folded the shirt and hid it at the bottom of his trunk. He tried not to think about it lying there, tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. It was wrong and everything it touched was wrong.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Percy felt wrecked. His whole body ached, he was exhausted, and his face was pale and drawn. He felt very old. Looking into the mirror he could hardly recognize himself. He looked like a ghost, sad and white with dark rings around his eyes. But he did it. He had survived the worst of his withdrawal. He was free from Analeptius. Percy tried to smile at his reflection, but his skin felt too tight. His smile disappeared and his face automatically fell into the slightly worried, pinched expression he always wore. Percy sighed as he moved away from the mirror. It had been a hellish week. The potion haunted his mind, driving him with a frenzied need. Anything, anything to make the horrible nonsense thoughts stop. When he had been able to sleep, he dreamt frightening half-formed dreams. Mostly, he dreamt of Penelope.

Percy shivered and wrapped his arms tightly around himself.

"Mr. Weasley! I'm glad to see you up and about!" Crane grinned happily at the other man as he sauntered into the room.

Percy nodded, giving the Healer a brief, weak smile. "It's good to be back."

Crane clapped Percy on the shoulder, motioning with his head to walk with him. They left Percy's room and began to make their way through the facility. "You're over most of the withdrawal symptoms now. You're body no longer craves the potion the way it did, but the reason why you felt the need to turn to Analeptius is still there."

Percy gave another flitting smile, more sincere this time. It was gratifying to hear that someone was taking his thoughts and feelings seriously, not dismissing them as imaginary or nonsense.

Crane led him to a rather empty and plain room that held only a single chair and a nurse who was standing by holding a vial. Crane gestured towards the chair and Percy took the seat, ready for whatever cure Crane may give him.

Crane took the vial from the nurse and held it up, allowing Percy to see the amber-colored liquid inside. "Now, there is no known cure for Obsidere, but there have been a few experimental treatments for it." Crane leveled Percy with a serious and somber gaze. "This is an experimental potion that unleashes a wave of near-uncontrollable magic within the body."

Percy fixed the vial with an apprehensive look. "It sounds dangerous."

Crane nodded. "I'm not going to lie. It is. There have been a few instances where it has caused damage to the brain, and considering your medical history you are especially at risk. However, there have also been some success in curing these types of hexes. Not all of the time, but some of the time. It essentially overwhelms any hex, no matter how hidden or powerful. Almost like a cure-all. But given the fact that we do not know the peculiarities of certain types of hexes, such as Obsidere, we cannot fine tune it to pinpoint that hex in particular."

"Do you think it will work?" Percy asked.

"I am not sure," Crane confessed. "But given the severity of your case, I believe that we should try."

Percy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his mouth. He had been dependent on Analeptius for years, and he wasn't keen on drinking any more dangerous potions. But he was desperate. He had to make the thoughts stop.

"Okay," Percy nodded and took the vial from Crane's hand. With one gulp, Percy downed all of the yellow liquid.

He felt himself falling and the shattering impact of his back meeting the floor. He had felt a sudden burst of pain within his head the moment he swallowed the potion, sending him reeling backwards. Then he didn't feel anything at all.


	5. Chapter 4

The light streaming in from the window was particularly yellow that day.

It almost looked like Percy could touch it. He wanted to raise his hands and run his fingers through it, he wanted to make the little specks of dust tremble and fly away in a flurry. The yellow light wouldn't be hot. It would feel cool to the touch and smooth like many strands of hair that would curl and twist around his fingers.

"What are you doing here?"

Percy felt like he was sinking very slowly. He turned his head to focus on the voice that was weighing him down, but it was difficult. The air was water and he was falling to the bottom of some great lake, and he would keep falling until he reached the sandy floor. There was no stopping it. He'd forgotten how to swim.

Percy saw a girl looking at him. She seemed concerned about something. Her hair was black and long. The white specks of dust that float about her head look like shooting stars against it.

"This is Percy Weasley; he will be joining our group sessions from now on." Percy knew that voice. It was Crane.

Crane was looking at him right now. He seemed so concerned, just like the girl. Percy suddenly realized that there was a sea of faces all around him, looking at him. There were people sitting in chairs in a circle, their eyes gazed at him unflinchingly. For one hysterical moment Percy had no idea how he had gotten there, but then he remembered. He was at his first group session. Crane had given him the option of waiting until he was feeling better, but Percy hadn't wanted to wait. He wanted to get well. It had been several days since he had taken the experimental potion. Crane had said it would make him a little "scrambled" for a couple of days, and not to worry for it was a common side effect. Percy was fairly certain that "scrambled" was not a professional term.

At least he wasn't obsessively thinking about stupid things anymore. Although, to tell the truth, he could barely remember thinking much at all these past few days. Everything seemed so far away and distant. It was almost like Analeptius in the way it made him feel. He wondered if he should be worried.

The black-haired girl nodded, still looking at him. "I know you. You were that secretary at the Ministry who tried to help me with my father. Do you remember me? I'm Audrey Jones. I had wanted to thank you then, but you... wouldn't let me…" Her voice trailed off, and she glanced around as though suddenly self-conscious.

Percy smiled at her and shook his head slightly in apology. He didn't remember her. The movement made his ears ring.

He didn't talk that session, he didn't even know if he could. It felt like there were cotton balls in his mouth. He didn't hear the others speak, either. Every time he tried to focus on the words the ringing would start again, so Percy just gave up. He did notice that the girl named Audrey didn't speak either. She just sat there, pulling at a string on her faded yellow sweater, watching it as it unraveled.

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The thundering of boots down the Ministry halls always made Percy's hands shake. It kept bringing him back to that night two months ago when the Death Eaters killed Rufus Scrimgeour. He had been walking back to the Minister's office, files in one hand and the Minister's cup of tea in the other when he heard the rapid stopping of several feet behind him. He turned to see Pius Thicknesse and several other Ministry officials walking towards the Minister's office at a brisk pace. They didn't appear too agitated or concerned, and so Percy figured it didn't have anything to do with You Know Who's spies. Everyone knew that there were spies in the Ministry, but no one knew who they were. The Minister was in a constant state of paranoia, viciously protecting any information that he acquired for fear it would get back to You Know Who. Percy and Thicknesse remained two out of a very few number of people that the Minister still felt he could trust. It was something that Percy always felt proud about.

Percy pushed open the door, leaving it open for Thicknesse and the others when they caught up, and handed the Minister the files and set the cup down on his desk. "Thank you," The Minister mumbled absently as he began to look over the files. "What time is it?"

"A little after 10," Percy replied.

The Minister nodded before pointing to a large stack of files on the floor in the corner of his office. "You can go home, but I need you to take those with you and look over them if you could."

Percy nodded and levitated the files in his hands, slipping his wand into his pocket, just as Thicknesse and the other officials walked in. "Scrimgeour," Thicknesse stated.

The Minister looked up just as Thicknesse aimed his wand at the man's chest. Suddenly the Minister began to writhe uncontrollably in his chair, his hands gripping the edge of his desk so tightly that his knuckles had turned a deathly white. He knew that the Minister had screamed and screamed and screamed, but for the life of him he couldn't remember it. There were no sounds. Just a ringing in his ears. Percy cried out and dropped his folders, almost rushing over to help the Minister when he noticed that one of the unknown Ministry officials with Thicknesse was aiming his own wand at him. Percy lifted up his empty hands, trembling slightly as the man smirked at him maliciously, as though he just couldn't wait to unleash the same spell on Percy. But then Thicknesse was levitating the Minister, his arms and legs were locked straight like a board. Percy could still see the skin and muscle jerk and tremble, even if his limbs remained stiff and unmoving. He was still under the Cruciatus. Then the Death Eaters were gone, the other men hooting and hollering, blasting open doors and windows, with Thicknesse leading the way, the crucified Minister floating above them like some kind of horrible banner.

Percy threw up on the floor of the Minister's office.

Percy tensed as his office door was opened, all memories of that night vanished as worried, frightened thoughts of Death Eaters flew through his mind. But it wasn't a Death Eater who opened his door. It was a woman who looked to be Charlie's age with long, thick black hair and brown eyes.

Percy relaxed as she nervously stood in front of his door. He knew what she was here for.

"Shut the door and take a seat, please." Percy stated, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

"What can I help you with?" Percy inquired. He already knew the answer, but he needed to keep up the ruse in case anyone was listening.

"I was told to come here to get an extension on my genealogy paperwork. My grandfather has been dead for some time and we're still trying to locate all of his papers," She stated, nervously pulling at the hem of her dress.

Percy nodded. "Name?" He inquired.

"Audrey Jones, Halfblood."

"And is this grandfather on your mother's side or father's?"

"Father's."

"And have you already filled out the request form?" Percy asked. The woman nodded, handing over the request form with another piece of paper hiding underneath it. Percy took them from her. He disregarded the request form on top and looked at the document hidden underneath. It was her father's birth certificate, yellow and aged. The certificate proudly pronounced that Ian Jones had been born in a Muggle hospital to Muggle parents. Percy pulled out two documents from his desk, one approving of the request form and a blank birth certificate made to look old. Percy had aged the paper by hand, using Penelope's stove and some teabags. The Genealogy Department would check to make sure no magic had tampered with the birth certificates, but they never checked to see if they had been altered using Muggle means.

With the exactitude that Percy was known for, he carefully copied the handwritten words and the doctor's scrawling signature onto the new-old birth certificate. All the information on Ian Jones's old certificate remained the same except for one tiny detail: his father's name had been changed from Robert Jones to Owen Jones. Thicknesse had ordered Percy to help get the new Genealogy Department on its feet, making him go through hundreds of files and documents that detailed the family records of all the Wizarding families of Great Britain. He put his time to good use there. He memorized the names of any long-dead Halfblood or Pureblood that he could use to help Muggleborns escape the registration and subsequent round-ups by the Ministry, replacing the name of one of their relatives with that of one of those Halfbloods or Purebloods. Owen Jones had been the uncle of the famous Pureblood Gwenog Jones. He lived in roughly the same area of Wales and was known to be somewhat licentious, having several girlfriends in addition to a wife. Audrey Jones could make the case to the Genealogy Department that her grandfather was not just some Muggle who happened to have the same name, but the Owen Jones. It wasn't a guarantee that her father would escape the registration, but it was better than nothing.

Percy filled out the request approval form as well, sliding it on top of Ian Jones's new birth certificate and burning his old one to ashes on his desk. He handed it back to Audrey Jones, who looked like she was about to cry. "Thank-"

"You will need to take this form to the Genealogy Department. If your great-grandfather is a Halfblood or Pureblood then they might have copies of any records you need there." Percy cut her off quite suddenly as he swept the ashes into a dust bin. He couldn't have her crying in his office. That would certainly generate rumors.

Audrey Jones nodded, blinking rapidly to stop any tears. She stood up, composed and calm, and left.

Percy went back to his filing.


	6. Chapter 5

When Percy's eyes fell automatically onto the peeling yellow wallpaper in the corner that morning he knew that the potion had failed.

Percy wrenched his gaze from the horrible spot and began to get dressed, his hands flying into the old routine as though nothing had happened. He pulled open the wardrobe four times and closed it six. Opening it just once would not do. One was a terrible number. Two was fine in a pinch, but four was better. Three was not to be considered at all.

When he stood in front of a mirror Percy looked critically at his clean, crisp clothes and the perfect hair and the perfect expressionless expression that betrayed nothing of his fearful, worrying thoughts. He looked exactly like he always had. Percy bit back a sob, his hand flying to cover his mouth in hopes of muffling the sound. He had wished so hard for the potion to work. He didn't know how much longer he could live like this. He just wanted it to stop.

Percy took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He had to put his faith in Crane. He was a Healer; he knew what he was doing.

Percy left his quarters and walked down to the group therapy room. The others were already there, including Audrey. He could remember Audrey now that his mind was clear of the potion that Crane had fed him. He hadn't paid her any attention when he first met her; she was just another person who needed him to forge documents. Percy smiled a little to himself at the thought. He wondered what Fred would have said if he had known that his brother had fought the Death Eaters with paperwork. Typical, Fred would say, Percy could make even a battle boring.

"Now that everyone is here we'll get started," Crane began. Percy sat up a little straighter. Although he had been to group therapy before he hadn't really been in the right frame of mind to pay much attention to it. Upon arriving Crane had extolled on the virtues of group therapy, although Percy hadn't really understood. The Healer had apparently spent a month in a Muggle psychiatric ward to learn how Muggles deal with addiction and that was where he witnessed the practice firsthand. Crane obviously thought it was a good idea, in an even a stopped clock is right twice a day sort of way, but Percy just wished he could explain it better. All Crane would tell him was that releasing one's fears and anxieties to a group of peers was supposed to be cathartic or something. Crane hadn't gone into detail, but Percy just nodded like he had understood. He didn't want to look like a complete idiot. "I believe we last left off with Betty." Crane turned to look at the tall, blonde woman. "Betty, I think you were just about to tell us about your new son. Geoffrey, his name is?"

"Yes, Geoffrey," Betty said with a strained smile. She was a little older than Percy, maybe Bill's age, but she looked so much older. There was a constant tightness around her eyes that made her skin crinkle. "He just turned one two days ago."

"Congratulations," Crane said with an affable smile. "Now you turned to Pepper-Up not long after he was born, correct?"

Betty blushed and nodded. Percy cocked an eyebrow at that. Pepper-Up was a very mild form of the Analeptius that Percy had been using. It wasn't supposed to be that dangerous, unless one just continually drank the stuff. He wondered just how much she had been drinking.

"Why is that?"

The woman's face turned a bright crimson as she threw furtive glances at everyone around her. "I don't know, it's just…" She trailed off a moment, gathering her courage. "I couldn't make myself happy. Pepper-Up only lasts for an hour or two, so I just kept drinking it. And then it didn't work as well so I drank more. My husband finally sent me here when the steam from my ears kept bothering the baby."

"Because you felt unhappy all the time?"

Betty nodded. "Yes, it's just… it was all so much with the new baby and John working all the time. I-I didn't know what to do. Geoffrey wouldn't stop crying and I couldn't make him stop. I started to hate him." She blurted out.

The moment she said that the others pulled back from her in revulsion. How could someone hate her own child, a baby? Betty heaved a sob, burying her face into her hands. Percy couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Is this how Muggles cured their ill? By humiliating them?

Crane went over to her and patted her on the shoulder. "I wished you had told me this earlier. What you are feeling is not your fault."

Betty looked up at him. "It isn't?" She sniffed.

"No, it's a curse, usually brought on my brownies-"

Crane's explanation was interrupted by a derisive snort. Percy turned incredulously to look at Audrey, who was staring at the ground with a scowl on her face and her arms crossed. When she realized that everyone was staring at her – including Crane – she flushed.

"Yes, Audrey?" Crane sneered. "Is there something you would like to say?"

Audrey began to cough conspicuously. "No, no," She said, still coughing into her hand. "Just coughing, not actually saying anything."

"You've barely contributed anything to this group," Crane pointed out as he made his way back to his seat.

"Well, I haven't got anything to say," She stated simply.

"Hm," Crane gave her a critical look before turning to Percy. Percy felt his own face turn red as the attention focused on him. "Well, Percy, I think you're up to contributing today. Why don't you introduce yourself to the rest of the group?"

Percy gave the others a wan smile. "I'm Percy Weasley. I work for the Ministry and… that's it."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Crane sighed. It was obvious that he was starting to get a little irritated by how this group was going. "Well, why don't you tell the others about the obsessive thoughts that you have?"

Percy looked back at the others who were staring at him intently. How could he tell them this? He could barely tell Crane and he was a Healer! "Oh, they've gone." He stated simply with an insincere smile. "I guess the potion worked."

Crane beamed at him.

After the group session Percy trudged his way back to his room. He felt like a cheat, but he couldn't say anything to them. He just couldn't bring himself to bear his faults to those strangers like that. He couldn't even tell his family, much less them. Percy pushed opened his door only to find Audrey standing in the middle of his room.

"Hi," She said.

"Hi," He answered.

"There aren't any locks on the dorms," Audrey stated, as way of an explanation. Percy didn't bother to say that it didn't actually explain why she entered without permission. "You know, to make sure we're not hiding any drugs or alcohol or prostitutes or something."

"Prostitutes?" Percy asked.

Audrey nodded. "Oh, yeah, they found two in Booker's room last week. Alive, not dead, just in case you were wondering if he was a serial killer or something. You were still kind of out it then. It was pretty funny."

"Oh." It was all Percy could think of to say.

For a while neither said anything.

"So, you're obsessive-compulsive, yeah?" Audrey asked, fiddling with the hem of her sleeves.

"Sorry, what?"

"OCD. It's what the Muggles call someone who thinks crazy things like washing your hands twenty times is going to stop the world from ending," Audrey explained.

"Oh," Percy said with a roll of his stomach. Crazy, she had said. Percy tried to keep his eyes from looking at the cracked wallpaper. "Yes, well, not anymore."

Audrey nodded slowly. "That's right. I forgot. You're cured."

"Yes." He answered, his voice clipped.

Audrey nodded again. "I'm an alcoholic. Nothing takes my mind off of… well, everything, like a good bottle of Firewhiskey." Suddenly Audrey took a deep breath. "I really am grateful for what you tried to do. The Death Eaters didn't believe that my father could be Owen Jones's son. Oh, they hadn't realized that the birth certificate was forged, they just said that there were a lot of Owen Joneses in Wales, Muggle ones too. Anyway, he was convicted of stealing some wizard's magic and sentenced to Azkaban." Audrey shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably. "I never heard from him again. He didn't come out with the others. He must have died."

"I'm sorry." He really was.

Audrey shrugged and shook her head. "It's over now. You want to go get something to eat?"

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Percy sat in an empty classroom and wept.

He was supposed to meet Penelope here an hour ago, but had missed it because he had spent thirty minutes opening and closing trunks and wardrobes and doors. He had to find the perfect even number that would make everything better. That would make Fred and George like him again. He knew this was crazy, that it was insane. God, why couldn't he just stop? He just wanted the thoughts to stop.

It had been so difficult these past two weeks. Ron was almost murdered by a psychopathic Death Eater out to kill Harry, his N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching and he was vastly unprepared, and Fred and George had decided that now was the perfect time to play a prank on their older brother. He had gotten them to fix his Head Boy Badge, only for them to enchant all of his school robes to read "Big Head Boy" on the back. It had been humiliating to walk into class and have everyone laugh.

Percy was losing control and he didn't know how to get it back.

"Percy, are you in here?"

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin when Penelope arrived. He hadn't expected her to come back here. He hurriedly wiped his face, not wanting her to see him like this.

"What's wrong? Why didn't you show up?" Penelope asked as she came to stand beside him, a frown marring her features.

"Nothing is wrong."

"Liar. I can see something is wrong."

"Everything's a mess, Penelope," Percy said. "I feel like I have no control. And I'm afraid. I don't know why I am afraid."

Penelope gave him a sad smile. "You're starting to sound like me."

"You seem to be doing better."

Penelope nodded. "Madame Pomfrey gave me a new potion to try. I was just so listless and the Pepper-Up wasn't really doing anything. So, she prescribed me Analeptius. It's a real energy boost, though I'm only supposed to take small doses every couple of days. The fear is still there, but I can't think about it when I'm on the stuff. I just have so much to do and Analeptius helps me do it," Penelope looked up into his eyes. "If you want I can give you some."

"I don't know…"

"It'll be fine. Just a small amount. I just don't like seeing you like this, Percy."

"If you think it will help."

"It will."


	7. Chapter 6

He remembers the screaming the most.

He doesn't remember what he was doing when they came, only that he had been in his room and he had been alone. He doesn't know where Bill and Charlie were – Percy suspects they might have been staying with relatives at the time, maybe Aunt Muriel – and Mum was downstairs with the twins. The twins were very young, no more than two. Ron and Ginny hadn't been born yet.

He heard the door suddenly open and the sounds of men yelling. His mother gave a very short wailing scream and then it stopped. The twins were crying. Percy was terrified when he heard the sounds. He didn't want to look. He was only about four and didn't understand that there was a war going on, but he knew how scared the adults always seemed. How quiet they were and how they hadn't wanted him to go outside or meet new people. Dad was almost always gone and Percy remembers hiding beside his mother when he would come by. He remembers his father holding out his arms to hug him, only for Percy to bury his face in his mother's leg and refused to acknowledge this strange man he knew nothing about. Looking back on it, it must have hurt his father deeply.

The sounds quieted. He could still hear their voices however, and what seemed to be a man groaning. Percy took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to go down and see what was happening. He crept down the stairs, pausing to peek through the railing. He saw the twins in their playpen and their mother and a group of men huddled around another man with bright red hair. His father maybe? Or did it merely look red from all the blood? He was lying on his back on the sofa, his arms spread, with rivets of red sliding down his head and neck and hands. His clothes were wet and stained dark. His mother and the others were muttering spells, waving their wands, but he could see the panic and fear in their faces. Nothing seemed to be happening. Frightened, Percy fled back upstairs as quietly as he could.

He knew his mother would not want him there and so Percy waited for her to call for him. He heard the door slam once more and then it was quiet. His mother would come for him soon. Percy pulled out one of the books his mother read to him and looked at the pictures while he waited, trying to remember the stories that went with them. When he was finished he pulled out another and another. He only stopped when it got too dark to see them anymore.

Percy's stomach growled painfully. A long, long time had passed and it was well after time for supper. His mother should have come to put him to bed a while ago, but he couldn't hear her downstairs. He couldn't hear anything. Percy left his room once more, knowing that he would probably get in trouble for doing so. He peeked into her room and the twins' room, but she wasn't there. The living room and the kitchen were dark and silent. No one was home.

Percy's stomach growled again. He knew he wasn't allowed to take any food from the kitchen unless his mother was there to help him lest he made a mess, but he was just so hungry. There was a bowl of strawberries on the table that his mother had picked from the garden earlier that day, and after pulling himself into a chair he began to eat. After he had his fill Percy was at a loss of what he should do. He knew that he was supposed to be in bed by now and so, with that, Percy hopped down from the chair and went back to his room. He put on his pajamas and brushed his teeth and did everything he was supposed to do if his mother had been there. He crawled into bed and thought that when he woke up in the morning his mother and the twins would be back like they had never left.

Percy awoke to the bright sun in his eyes. He laid very, very still for a moment, just listening. There wasn't a sound in the house. It was dead and empty. His mother should be making breakfast by now and the twins should be calling out to one another, loud as they always were. They weren't there. No one was there. They hadn't come back and Percy was left all alone. He squeezed his eyes, wishing they would come back.

He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes again he found himself in the living room in his mother's arms, hearing her soft voice as she carried on a quiet conversation with his father, home from the war.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Percy demanded.

Audrey shrugged as she continued to pack. She wouldn't look him in the eye. Percy couldn't believe her. How could she just pick up and leave like that? He knew she had snuck in a few drinks here and there, but she had been trying so hard and so he hadn't said anything. She had a horrible time during the war after all. He had been so stupid. The rules were there for a reason and he had let them slide. Now she was giving up! Didn't she know that she was his only friend here?

"Look, I just don't think this place is doing anyone any good. I don't think Crane is a good Healer. He doesn't seem to know what he's doing, does he?" Audrey said.

"He's an expert in his field."

Audrey snorted as she placed her clothing into the suitcase. She had her wand back, they'd given it to her when she'd said she was quitting. Percy wondered why she just didn't use magic to pack. "I'm starting to think that doesn't mean much in this world."

Percy crossed his arms. "What other option is there? Go to the Muggle World, look for a cure there?"

Audrey sighed as she clasped her suitcase close, finally looking up at him. "Maybe the Muggles have a better way; did you ever think of that?" Audrey snapped. "I'm tired of all these magical cures that don't work! I'm tired of people trying to force me to be better! Maybe I don't want to be better. I didn't want to come here. I was doing just fine on my own. Sure, I did some stupid stuff while drunk-"

"You told me you flew your broom into a high-rise," Percy interjected. "Not to mention you were fired from your job for showing up drunk every day for a week."

"Yeah, thanks, Perce, I was there," Audrey stated coldly at the man's snide tone. "I remember it. Okay, well, I remember most of it. The point is I'm tired of all this and I don't want to do this anymore and no one can make me." The dark-haired woman sighed, the fight draining away as she picked up her suitcase. "Besides, I don't think there is a cure- not for me, anyway," She stated.

"So, that's it," Percy demanded coldly. "You're just going to give up?"

Audrey just shrugged as she made her way out of the room. Percy watched her walk down the hall only to stop and turn around to face him. "You know," she said, her voice trembled but she still managed to sound brave. "I don't think you have any right to judge. I know you're not well, despite what you tell Crane."

Percy opened his mouth to protest, his face blushing a brilliant red, but she was already gone.

It was his birthday today and his one friend in this place was gone.

Percy sighed to himself as he lay awake in his room later that night. He couldn't sleep. What a miserable birthday this had turned out to be. He had no friends here, his family couldn't contact him while he was going through the program, he was still crazy, and he was worried about Audrey. Percy felt justified in allowing himself to wallow in self-pity.

But then he felt hot, clammy skin against his own. Percy gave out a rather undignified shriek when a hand suddenly clamped onto his arm.

Horrible laughter erupted in the room, despite the fact that it was empty except for Percy. The red-haired man narrowed his eyes. He knew that laughter anywhere. George suddenly appeared in the room, holding Harry's Invisibility Cloak in one hand while the other still gripped Percy's arm. George grinned down at him as Percy sat up in bed, scowling heavily at his younger brother. "What are you doing here?" Percy demanded.

"I need you to come with me," George stated, as though that were an explanation.

"Where? What for?"

"I'm your brother, Perce. Don't you trust me?"

Percy just glared.

George broke out into another short laugh. "Okay, okay, I promise it's not a trick of some kind. You may not realize this but I've matured. I'm a respectable young man now. I've got a little shop and everything. I'm thinking about buying a bowler hat." Even though George smiled at him his voice was tinged with sadness. "So, you coming? Because I may have matured, but I'll still put you in a Full-Body Bind and Levitate you if I have to."

Percy nodded. "I'll come."

Percy put on some clothes and followed George out of the clinic and outside into the surrounding fields and countryside. He nervously threw a glance back at the building as they walked further and further away from it. He wasn't allowed to leave the grounds.

George led him to a spot that was just within the vicinity of the clinic. Percy couldn't help but give a little gasp as he saw his family waiting for him. They had set up a picnic with candles and a large blanket. His mother and father smiled up at him, proud. Bill and Charlie waved at him, while Fleur gave him a polite nod. Other than that time when he was a judge at the Triwizard Tournament he had only really spoke with her briefly a couple of times after the Battle of Hogwarts, neither having the time to spare to get to know the other. Ginny and Ron nodded as well, a little preoccupied with shoving each other to give Percy a proper greeting. In-between them all lay a birthday cake proudly lit with twenty-two candles.

Percy and George sat down and Percy could feel his face grow hot and red. It was silent and awkward, no one really knowing what to say to one another.

"I'm so proud of you, dear, for sticking with this," Molly gushed, smiling fondly at her third-born.

Percy nodded. "Thank you," He said stiffly. It was silent once more as everyone looked to the other for some kind of diversion.

"So," Ron began, breaking the odd tension. "We all now know not to entrust Charlie with being a Secret Keeper."

Charlie scowled. "I maintained that I was tricked." He stated petulantly.

"By the way, I've told everyone that you went into hiding because you were actually the head of an illegal underground gambling ring," Ginny said, turning to Percy.

George nodded. "I'd believe it. You're very good at bookkeeping," he informed his elder brother.

"Also, I told people that you got a tattoo and have cleverly disguised yourself by growing out a moustache."

"A look that I think you should go for by the way," Ron interjected. "It's a very classy look. A big thick one too." Ron held his hands up to his face to illustrate the monstrous proportions Percy should grow his moustache.

Percy smiled at them.


	8. Chapter 7

Percy accepted the smiles and the warmly offered congratulations as though he had earned them.

Only he knew it was all a lie.

He wasn't cured. He wasn't cured of anything. Everything was such a constant struggle, a terrible pull and push that was weighing him down and he couldn't be free of it. For the past few months he had spent his nights obsessively thinking about that peeling bit of wallpaper on the wall, his eyes transfixed on it as though he were under a spell. Which he was, according to Crane. What else could this madness be? He barely got any sleep at night. If he wasn't thinking about the wallpaper then he was thinking about the dust on the floor, or the way his shoes were not put away just so, or the numbers. Numbers, numbers, numbers. 1, 2, 3. He was always counting and he just could. Not. Stop.

He should have told Crane the truth. He wanted so desperately for the thoughts to stop. He knew what would make them stop. It was like an itch in the back of his head. A constant itch that gave him no reprieve. But he was over that now. He couldn't go back. He would just have to deal with the thoughts on his own. He refused to go back to that.

He knew he should have told the Healer the truth, but he just couldn't do it. Why hadn't the potion worked for him? Crane had said there had been some success with it. Why not for him? Maybe because it's not a curse, some dark corner of Percy's mind would whisper, maybe you're just crazy. Percy shivered at the thought. Would he have to stay here forever? God, if the thoughts didn't drive him insane this place surely would. Wake-up at the exact same time as everyone else, eat the exact same thing he ate yesterday, stare at the same wall every day, go to group therapy and lie, lie, lie. 1, 2, 3.

No, it was better if he just handled this on his own. He could do it. He was sure of it.

Percy left the clinic, suitcase in hand, for the last time. He would not come back. He was going to do this. He Apparated to the Burrow, sucking in a deep breath as he stared at his childhood home. It looked the same as it always did: the sun peeking down on the mismatched house, the elderberry bushes now bare, it already being early October, and the small pond, still and quiet. So why didn't it feel the same? Why couldn't he just walk inside, hug his Mum, and feel like a child again?

"Percy! What are you doing here?" Percy saw Bill and Fleur exit the house.

"I've been released," Percy gave the pair a wan smile. "All better now."

A frown pulls at Bill's mouth. "Why didn't you tell us? We could have met you outside the clinic!"

Percy looked at his older brother, unsure of what he meant by that. "Well, what would be the point of Apparating there and back again like that when you all could have just remained here? It makes much more sense that way."

"Yes, of course you'd think that," Bill muttered, but before Percy could comment on it his brother gestured inside. "Come on, let's get some lunch. Mum is out shopping and of course Dad's at work. Ginny's back in school and so is Hermione as well."

"What about Ron and Harry?" Percy asked as he and Fleur sat down at the table while Bill began fixing lunch. "Did they go back for their seventh year?"

"No, Harry's in Auror training and Ron's helping George out with the shop," Bill replied. Percy tried to ignore the twinge he got in his stomach at how casual Bill had sounded when he mentioned George and his shop.

The three of them spent the afternoon pleasantly discussing everything that Percy had missed while he was away, all of them carefully avoiding that other time he had been away. Bill had been so angry with him, angrier than Dad had even been when it happened because he knew why Percy had been so volatile and closed off. Bill always was so much more worldly than anyone else in the family. None of the others had recognized the signs, much less their parents. But Bill had. When he had heard of the fight between Percy and their father he had stormed over to Penelope's apartment, demanding to be let in. Their fight was worse than the one between Percy and his father. Bill had laid his addiction bare, stripping away all of Percy's pretenses, telling him – demanding – that he seek help, like he was still the five year old that he could tell what to do. It was like a blow to the gut to hear Bill tell him point blank everything that was wrong with him. Well, almost everything. He didn't know about the thoughts. Bill even pointed out all of Penelope's problems like he knew her, blaming her for this mess. That had been when Percy sent him flying out of the apartment. He was glad that Penelope hadn't been there to hear that.

Percy was in his old, favorite armchair reading by the lamp when his father came home. He had spent dinner with Bill, Fleur and his Mum. Molly had, to no one's surprise, simultaneously hugged and scolded him for not telling anyone he was coming home. Percy sighed as he settled deeper into the chair, turning the page. Bill and Fleur had just left, although Fleur had insisted that Percy borrow one of her books. She had been delighted when she learned that Percy enjoyed reading just as much as she did. She seemed determined to get everyone she knew hooked on this particular French author. According to Bill, she had apparently already ensnared Hermione and now the two spent hours having winding conversations on the nuances of his novels. She had given him Le Juron du Démon ("Translated into English, of course," she had said with a sigh. "Eet loses much of eet's charm."). So far, he thought the novel rather trashy, but he hadn't wanted to tell Fleur that. He didn't want to be rude. Percy arched an eyebrow as the text began to lovingly describe the main character's… wand. Percy skipped the next couple of pages, his face flushing, as he wondered just what exactly Fleur had given him… and why on earth was Hermione reading it?

"Percy, can I speak with you for a moment?" Percy looked up to see his father standing there in front of him. He looked a little hesitant. All of their conversations since he'd returned, few and far between as they were, had been hesitant and cautious. It was strange talking to someone whom you had purposefully avoided for over a year.

Arthur took a seat across from Percy. "I've been talking with Kingsley Shacklebolt," he began. "And he needs a new secretary. Since you did such a great job working under Fudge and Scrimgeour, I told him that he might want to hire you once you got back."

Percy couldn't help but be a little surprised at that. A great job? When Fudge had first given him the position his father had been adamant that the Minister only wanted to use him as a spy. It didn't speak much of his confidence in Percy. Was this an attempt at making peace? Percy would take it; he'd take whatever his father offered.

"That sounds great," Percy said, pulling a quick, tight smile.

Arthur looked visibly relieved. "You can come in tomorrow, or the next day if you want some time to settle in. Kingsley wants you to start as soon as you can."

Percy nodded and turned back to his book as Arthur wandered off. Except he couldn't concentrate anymore. Working as a secretary for the Minister had been what he wanted – it was just a stepping stone to becoming the Minister of Magic after all – but it had been absolute hell as well. He would stay until well after ten – midnight on some nights – and come back in early around five. He'd work weekends and holidays, not because the Minister told him to, but because he could never get anything done quite right. He'd obsess over every minor detail, trying to get everything perfect. He had been yelled at a few times by Scrimgeour for taking too long and worrying about nothing. He couldn't help it though. His mind would always turn back to those minute imperfections, his memory refusing to forget. He supposed it was a good thing he could remember such small details; otherwise he would have never been able to remember all those genealogies, birthdates, names, and places. It hadn't made it any easier, though.

Not to mention after his fall out with Arthur he'd lost many friends at the Ministry, and those that had tried to be his friend afterward were usually Death Eaters. It wasn't any wonder that his addiction became worse during this time.

These thoughts plagued Percy for the rest of the evening and well into the night as well. He couldn't stop thinking. His Mum hadn't cleaned the kitchen before they had all went to bed.

And with that thought Percy was up. It was a little past one, but it didn't matter. He felt compelled to clean the mess they had left behind. The dirty table and unwashed dishes taunted him, forcing him to act. It bothered him. The kitchen needed to be cleaned before something happened.

It hadn't taken him long to clean the entire kitchen. He was a wizard after all. Percy then moved on to the living room and then onto the nice parlor that was hardly ever used and had a thin layer of dust on everything. By the time he was finished it was after two. He slipped into bed, a little more at peace.

At five-thirty he was already out the door and on his way to the Ministry.

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When Percy heard that no action was to be taken against him he almost threw up.

He should have noticed something, but he hadn't. He had been so consumed with work and Penelope that he had barely noticed that something was wrong with Mr. Crouch. Hell, he'd been grateful at the chance to show off his capabilities to his ill boss. He'd been so driven. His thoughts had seemed so easy to control then. He could go for days without sleep with the help of Analeptius and work, work, work. 1, 2, 3. He had been far too busy to pay much attention to those ever consuming thoughts and the ones that he did pay attention to… well, that was what the Analeptius was for. To give him enough hours in the day to make sure that everything was perfect. He needed for it to be perfect.

He had been terrified and ashamed after what had happened to Mr. Crouch, however. It had been a wake-up call. Yet Percy never stopped taking the potion. He just couldn't. He needed it.

When Cornelius Fudge offered him the position of junior secretary, Percy knew that he wasn't ever going to stop. He didn't really much care.

With all the stress, the lack of sleep, the constant buzzing of his thoughts mixing with the Analeptius, it was no wonder he finally snapped.

He had come home, elated with the news of his promotion, when his father had simply stated that Fudge only wanted a spy for the Order.

"I worked hard over the past year!" Percy snapped hotly. "The Minister saw that!"

It was strange yelling at his parents. He had never done that before. Never questioned them, always did what they asked. It was almost like he wasn't there, like he was watching some other person say these things. He wasn't the only one who thought so, judging by the look on Arthur's face.

"Percy, you were just acquitted of a Ministry investigation," Arthur stated, the surprise over Percy's behavior still apparent in his voice. Percy noted that Arthur said nothing over his son's guilt or innocence. In fact, he hardly said anything about the investigation at all. Percy wondered if perhaps his father did think he was partially to blame for Mr. Crouch's death. It's not like I even knew him that well, Percy thought fiercely. Dumbledore knew Moody for decades and still wasn't able to tell that it was another man in disguise.

"Besides," Arthur continued. "It was not as though you were doing important work."

"Yes, and you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Percy sneered. "Just how is that investigation over the enchanted teacups coming along?"

Percy watched his father flush a brilliant red but didn't stick around to hear his reply. He turned sharply on his heel and left his childhood home.


	9. Chapter 8

With shaking hands Percy levitated the broken remnants of his office to the dustbin. He didn't know how long he could keep doing this.

Thurston Hargrove had come up to him earlier that day. Everyone in the Ministry knew what he was. "The Ministry needs you to stick around after hours," Hargrove informed him. "After everyone else has left." Then he was gone.

That was when Percy knew the game was up. The Death Eaters knew that he had doctored those documents. This could only end in two ways: either he would be arrested and sent to Azkaban or he would be murdered and his body gone without a trace. As though he had never existed.

Percy went back to his office, sat down at his desk, and continued on with his work. He would do nothing. He couldn't run. That was what they wanted. That had been the reason why they had warned him in the first place. They wanted to see where he would turn to. It was best to pretend as though he was innocent and unknowing. The only thing he did differently that day was send a letter to Penelope telling her he would be late. She didn't know about the documents and Percy didn't want her to worry. She always worried. He thought about sending a note to his father but decided against it. What would be the point?

After everyone was gone they came into his office. They ignored him completely, pushing him aside and began to ransack his office. Percy couldn't tell if they were actually looking for something or if they simply hated the décor. Once they had completely destroyed his office they left without giving him so much as a backward glance.

Percy took a deep, shuddering breath as he finished cleaning his office. He didn't understand it. Did they really know what he had been doing for these past few months, or did they simply suspect something? Had he been merely a random target, a name they pulled out of a hat to terrorize?

Percy turned out the lights and headed home. Even now thinking the word brought a small smile to his face. Home. The home he made he made with Penelope. A week before the Ministry fell the two had moved out of her parents' house and bought a small place in London. They had saved up for the down payment for an entire year. It wasn't big or especially nice, but it was theirs.

Penelope was probably going out of her mind with worry. She hated it when he was late. She was so paranoid something terrible was going to happen to him, that he would be murdered and she would never know what had happened to him. She was so fearful these days. The constant fear that had hounded her since sixth year had taken over her completely since the Death Eaters took control. When the Ministry fell it was as though everything that she had ever been afraid of had come true. That first week at their new place had been perfect; she'd been so happy. But now… she hardly left their house anymore. Percy knew that he would never tell her the real reason he was late. He would make something up. He was terrible at lying, but he'd come up with something. One would think after years of living with Fred and George he'd be better at it. Percy stopped thinking about Fred and George.

"Penelope?" Percy called out as he walked through the front door, turning on the lights. The kitchen looked the same as it did yesterday, like it had been untouched for the entire day. He saw that the letter he had sent her that afternoon – warning her about how he would be late – was still sitting on the windowsill, unopened, where the owl had left it. That was strange. "Penelope?" He called out again. He walked into their bedroom – the only bedroom – and saw her lying on the bed, asleep on her side. An empty potion bottle stood on the bedside dresser. "Hey, did you have any dinner?" He asked softly, reaching down to shake her shoulder. She was stiff and cold, as though she were made of stone. Unmoving. And she didn't wake up.

In a panic Percy Flooed David Hamby, a boy he had graduated with. Percy had tutored him in History. He had since been made an Auror. They hadn't talked since Hogwarts, only briefly saw each other at the Ministry, but Percy hadn't known who else to turn to. Hamby had come at once with two other Aurors. They confirmed she was dead. Percy doesn't remember the actual conversation he had had with Hamby, but he knows what he said. There had been no foul play, no Death Eater attack. She had died earlier that morning, probably not long after Percy had left for work. It had been an overdose. Percy remembers the way Hamby had asked about Penelope's emotional state, as though he weren't entirely sure it was an accident. Of course it had been accident. He watched the other two Aurors – he didn't know their names – take Penelope away. The body, as they referred to it. She was so stiff, her form locked in the position she had died in. When they levitated her he saw horrible bruises discoloring her entire left side, the side she had been sleeping on. He had cried out. He knew now that the bruises had formed from where the still blood had pooled in her body, pulled down by the gravity.

Later Percy would look back at that moment and wonder at how he had kept using Analeptius, the same potion that had killed Penelope.

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The Ministry was driving him insane. In the meantime, Percy was fairly certain he was driving Shacklebolt insane. Good, Percy figured if he had to be insane then Shacklebolt might as well be to.

"Are you checking over my speech again?" Shacklebolt demanded. He would have to give a statement to the press soon. "You've looked over it twelve times."

"Something's wrong with it," Percy insisted.

"Nothing's wrong with it."

"You don't understand!" Percy snapped. "I-I can't let you read it. It's… there's something wrong with it."

"It's fine," Shacklebolt insisted impatiently. "I have to go." He held out his hand.

Percy reluctantly handed over the speech and watched the Minister leave. He kept running through the entire speech over and over in his head. He knew there was something wrong in it. Some phrase that didn't sound right, some misspelled word. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he knew it was wrong. Percy angrily began to file away the documents that Shacklebolt had left on his desk, trying to push the speech from his mind. Yet his thoughts always came back to it. What was the point? Shacklebolt was giving his statement at this very moment, it was too late. So why was he still obsessively thinking about it? Everything was so much easier when he was still taking Analeptius. Percy slammed the filing cabinet harder than he had to, angry with himself.

"Percy?"

He recognized the voice the moment he heard it. He turned around and there was Audrey, looking much the same as she did since he last saw her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I work here now!" She was grinning. "Well, sort of. I work here part time. As a temp. You know they've lost so many employees…" She trailed off, her smile gone.

Percy nodded. He understood. "And how are you doing?" He doesn't need to elaborate. They both know what he was referring to.

"Fine. You?"

"Fine." He sounded a little petulant even to his ears.

Audrey cocked an eyebrow at him. She knew he was lying. That was okay. He knew she was lying about being fine too. "I know you're not fine, Percy." She said.

Percy huffed and turned back around to his filing. He wasn't going to deal with this right now. If she insisted on bringing it up again then he was just going to ignore her. Audrey apparently didn't like that. "So that's it then? You're not even going to talk about this?" Audrey demanded. "Fine. You know what? You don't even have to. Everyone else is talking about it for you. You know me, I love to gossip and you're a favorite topic," she stated snidely. "They say, 'Crazy Percy's back. You know he spends hours doing the same thing over and over again? If he wasn't Arthur Weasley's son the Minister would fire him.'"

Percy turned back around and scowled at her. "Is there something you want?"

Audrey sighed. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I just meant you don't have to pretend. I've been seeing a psychiatrist-"

"A what?" Percy asked.

"It's a Muggle profession, a sort of doctor for your brain. She's… she's been helping me out a lot," Audrey confessed. She pulled out a business card, offering it to Percy. "She helped me more than Crane ever did. I think she could help you too."

Percy scoffed. "How could a Muggle help me if a trained wizard couldn't?"

Percy had no idea that his words would start the next great war.

"So that's it, isn't it? It all comes down to that!" Audrey exploded, throwing the card on the ground. The Ministry employees all turned to look at them, rapturously watching the drama unfold. Percy felt himself turn scarlet at the attention. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe there are some things that Muggles can do that magic can't? But of course you'd never know because you and everyone else in this stupid world is too scared to find out!" And with that she was gone.

Percy picked up the card and scurried back to his desk, away from all the prying eyes. For a long time he didn't do anything, just stared at the name: Dr. Martha Smith. Audrey was right, he was scared. The only thing he knew about Muggles was what he learned in Muggle Studies, just the very basics. He didn't understand how they could help without magic. How they could do anything without magic. Going to a Muggle doctor would be like going to some strange medicine man in a foreign country that you didn't speak the language or know the customs or even how their medicine worked, if it worked at all.

During his lunch break, Percy found himself staring up at the Muggle building. He had called on the telephone – one of the few things he knew how to do – and made an appointment. What did he have to lose at this point? He couldn't go on living like this.

Dr. Smith was young and pretty with dark brown skin and big eyes. She seemed so trusting of Percy, so open. He found it easy to open up to her. She didn't know him, or his family, or the world he came from. Nothing he said to her would ever come back to haunt him.

They talked a lot and she performed some tests. At the end of his appointment Percy felt hopeful. He tried to quell the feeling. It was stupid to get worked up over what may be nothing.

"You have a severe case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder," Dr. Smith explained. "Also known as OCD. You tested a 30 on the Y-BOCS. OCD is an anxiety disorder that can be very disruptive. It is characterized by intrusive thoughts and repetitive compulsions, coupled by feelings of fear, worry and anxiety."

Percy tried to comprehend what the Muggle doctor was telling her. "It's like a disease?" He asked. "What's the cause?"

"It's more like a condition, rather than disease," she explained. "There are many factors – both psychological and biological – that contribute to it, although no one is sure of the exact cause of it. Recent studies have linked OCD with neurotransmitters in the brain- they're chemicals that tell your brain how you should feel and act." Dr. Smith explained simply at the confused look on her patient's face. "One chemical in particular, serotonin, regulates anxiety." She pulled out a paper and pad. "I'm going to prescribe some medication. Luvox is designed to regulate the serotonin in the brain. You'll probably need to be on some medication for years to come, but I think we can get this under control. There may be side effects so contact me immediately if you experience anything unusual or if you feel your anxiety is worse than before. I want to see you again, okay?" She smiled and handed Percy the prescription. "Please see my receptionist and she'll schedule your next appointment."

Percy shook her hand and left, pocketing the prescription. There was nothing left to do but try it. Audrey was standing outside the building, hands shoved into her pockets, waiting for Percy as he exited. "So, how'd it go?" She asked.

Percy narrowed his eyes at her. "Fine," he stated. Then, after a second, "How did you know I would go?"

"Because you were desperate," she replied as she fell into step beside Percy. "I go to see her every couple of weeks. She says I've got Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and an addictive personality. She doesn't want to give me any drugs to regulate the PTSD. She's afraid I might start to abuse it, like I did with my drinking. Instead she wants to try to work through my issues. She keeps trying to get me to open up about the death of my father, but you know…" Audrey trailed off a little. "She's Muggle. I can't explain it to her. She'd lock me up. So, I guess there is a downside to Muggle doctors. What did she tell you?"

"I'd rather not say," Percy stiffly answered.

"You're pretty private, huh?" Audrey hooked her arm into Percy's. "What do you say to some lunch?"

"I've got to get back to work." He protested.

"Oh, come on, you skipped lunch. Besides just tell Shacklebolt that you're sick. He'll probably be glad to get rid of you for the day," She said with a smile.

Percy frowned at her, a little hurt by her words but did as she suggested. She was right, though, about Shacklebolt. When he Flooed he kept assuring Percy to take as much time as he needed. However, he was surprise when he found himself having a good time. Audrey was nothing like Penelope. Penelope was soft-spoken and thoughtful and had understood Percy to his core. She knew when something had hurt him and when he needed comfort. Audrey understood him, but in a different way. She knew when he was trying to hide and deflect. She didn't try to be comforting or understanding, she pulled and pushed until he was forced out into the open, exposed. She talked without thinking and sometimes said things that hurt, but she was funny and interested in what Percy had to say. So few people were.

He ended up spending the entire day with her and it was late in the evening when he finally returned to the Burrow.

Everyone had already gone to bed. Percy quietly snuck inside, careful not to wake anybody.

"Look who's back."

Percy whirled around to see Ron glowering at him from the kitchen table. "Ron?" Percy asked. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to come back," he answered, folding his arms. He was still glaring like Percy had done something wrong. And people think that I act like Mum! Percy thought.

Percy was confused. "Um, why?"

Ron stood up angrily. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you skipped out on work and no one had any idea where you were for hours?" Ron hissed. "Just what exactly were we supposed to think?" He demanded.

Oh, now Percy understood.

"I covered for you, just to let you know," Ron continued. "I told Mum and Dad that you were helping me out with the shop while George was out of town and that's where you were. If you make me regret-"

"Ron…" Percy interrupted. "I'm clean."

"Then where were you?"

Percy shrugged. "I went on a date."

That seemed to knock the wind out of Ron's sails. He slumped back into his chair and looked at Percy incredulously. "Really? You skipped work to go on a date?" Suddenly Ron got a little misty-eyed and clasped his hand over his heart. "My baby… he's all grown up. I can't wait to tell George."

"Shut it, Ronald," Percy growled. With a sigh, Percy moved over to sit next to Ron at the table. He had come to a decision. He needed to tell someone else about these thoughts other than complete strangers. His family needed to know. Percy took in a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I also went to see a Muggle doctor," he stated in one rush of air.

Ron blinked at him, confused. "Why?"

"I started taking Analeptius because I kept having these thoughts," Percy confessed. "They started… years ago. I can't even remember when. They never left me alone. They kept telling me that everyone hated me, that I needed to make sure that everything was perfect, and that if it wasn't perfect then something bad and terrible was going to happen. I was anxious and afraid all the time." Percy turned to look at Ron, giving him a wan smile. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

"No," Ron said simply. "I understand how you feel. Everyone is afraid of something, Percy, but it's not usually like that, is it? At least, I had never felt like that before. But then, when I was traveling with Harry and Hermione we found one of the Horcruxes. It was Slytherin's Locket and every time one of us wore it all that fear and paranoia would just overwhelm our thoughts. I hated myself when I wore it, and I was just… afraid. I don't even know why. It got to be where I would dread having to put it on. I would have nightmares about wearing it." Ron looked to his brother. "I can't imagine having to go through that for years, but… you're not crazy. Just… a little different. And you've always been different." He said with a smile.

Percy smiled back. "Thank you."


	10. Chapter 9

Percy banged the cup against the counter and slammed the kitchen cabinet doors, purposefully making as much noise as possible as he fixed Audrey a pot of coffee.

He supposed it would be quicker if he simply used magic, but then he wouldn't be able to passive-aggressively slam things. Plus, Percy thought as he watched Audrey wince at each loud bang, it has other benefits as well.

"Enough with all the noise!" Audrey ground out through her teeth as she pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead. "Just say it already!"

"Hm? Say what exactly?" Percy inquired, using his most imperious voice.

Audrey threw her hands up in aggravation. "I'm an alcoholic! A loser! A disappointment!"

That stopped Percy's raging. He gently set the cup down next to her hand. "You're not a loser or a disappointment." He stated. Why would she even think that?

"But I am an alcoholic."

Percy sat down at the table with a sigh. "I just don't understand what happened. You were doing so well! Why did you decide to go out with Amy and Sara and those other girls? You knew there would be drinking. It's best just to avoid those situations to begin with."

"You think I don't know that?" Audrey snapped. "Maybe you can deal with being all alone, but I can't."

Percy bit the inside of his cheek at Audrey's thoughtless comment. He didn't like to be alone; it was hard for him to make friends, she knew that. Percy pushed the thought from his mind. Now wasn't the time for that argument. "You couldn't have stayed home for one night?" Percy asked. The annoyance was evident in his voice. "You had to go out with Amy?"

"I wouldn't have gone if you hadn't canceled our date!" Audrey protested.

Percy stood up again. He moved back over to the counters and began to clean. The stress of the argument was starting to get to him. He could hear the distant buzz of strange thoughts and numbers in his head, muffled by the drugs Dr. Smith had prescribed. "You can't blame this on me. I'm sorry I had to cancel but I had to work late. You can't keep doing this, Audrey! I had to get you out of Muggle jail because you somehow stumbled out of Diagon Alley and into Muggle London! What if you had stumbled into the street and was hit by a car, did you think of that?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Percy." Audrey ground out. "I'm not one of your brothers and you are not my Mum. You're my boyfriend. I need you to support me."

"I'm trying, Audrey, but then you go and do things like this?" Percy turned back around to face her. "Just… why?"

Audrey shrugged and tried to wipe away the tears from her cheek as though she didn't care. Percy felt his heart clench at the sight. Percy had always considered her to be the strong one out of the two of them. She was the one who left the Grover Hipworth Treatment Center. She was the one who first sought out Dr. Smith. It was hard to see her break down. He hadn't realized just how much of herself she hid from him. "I just don't like to be by myself." She sniffed, the tears starting to flow more freely.

"Why not?"

Audrey shrugged again. She was refusing to look at Percy. "I don't really like myself."

"Audrey," Percy sighed as he sat back down again. "What happened with your father was not your fault. You tried to save him."

"I told him everything was going to be fine. He wanted to go on the run, but I told him that everything was fine. That I had taken care of it. They came for him that night. He would have been long gone if it wasn't for me," Audrey was truly crying now. "And when I'm by myself all I can think of is how I'm still here and he's not."

Audrey reached out and took Percy's hand, looking down at them as Percy intertwined their fingers. "You understand, don't you?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes." He did. More than she realized.

"When you're with me I don't feel so lost," Audrey confessed. "I know what I need to do and I know that I need to be strong. But I get weak. I get lonely. I want you to stay. Will you stay with me?"

Percy said nothing. He just squeezed her hand.

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Even now Penelope still haunted Percy's thoughts. Often, when he was alone, he would think back on how he had failed her so completely. He could see the warning signs. She had been depressed, scared, withdrawn. But he had done nothing. He hadn't known what to do, so he just did nothing.

He dreamt about her too. He didn't dream about her funeral, or the body she had left behind on the bed, or the way she would nervously look out the window minute after minute after minute. She was alive in his dreams and happy, the way she was before. He dreamt of the library, the dark stone walls and the wide wood tables. He dreamt of her blonde curly hair and the way it haloed around her face.

"So, Ælfwine the Bald was…" Percy prompted.

Penelope tossed her long hair over her shoulder as she pondered his question. "An elf!"

Percy sighed as he looked back down at his book. "We just went over this. He was a goblin."

"Right! Who led a goblin revolt!"

"Who led the goblin peace movement, actually," Percy corrected. "Before he was murdered, at least."

"You mean the one that occurred in 1587 and would have ended in a human-goblin alliance had Ælfwine survived the attack?"

Percy blinked at the girl. Penelope grinned at him, her expression soft and affectionate. "Percy," she said. "I have a perfect grade in History."

Percy shut his book with an irritated thud. "Then why did you ask me to tutor you?" He demanded. He was worried and a little suspicious of her ruse. It was something that Fred and George would do. He and Penelope were prefects together and Percy would even tentatively call her his friend. His only real friend. So why would she trick him like this?

Penelope shrugged and Percy could see her face beginning to heat up. "I thought it'd be nice," she answered, her smile still wide despite her blush.

Before Percy could ask what she meant, Penelope suddenly turned her head to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. It happened quickly and then Penelope was pulling back to see his reaction.

Percy didn't think his face had ever been as red as it was then. Percy coughed awkwardly, trying to will the blush away. "Yes, well, I don't know if we should do that here in the library."

Penelope burst into a fit of giggles and had to be shushed by Madame Pince.

Fin


End file.
